


Performance Review

by locusdesperatus



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: (but in a sex way), Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Facials, Impalement, Light Bondage, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sort Of, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22582420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/locusdesperatus/pseuds/locusdesperatus
Summary: Leon finds himself between a rock and a hard place, and thing only get worse from there.(Please check the tags before reading)
Relationships: Ben Bertolucci/Leon S. Kennedy, Leon S. Kennedy/Mr. X | Tyrant T-00
Comments: 21
Kudos: 232





	Performance Review

"Oh, god no. No!" Leon shoved at the back of the desk, nails scratching against hardwood. He was stuck, pinned down against the furniture. His cheeks were red, already mortified, but _oh god_ what if Claire found him like this? His hands shoved one more time at the cool vices wrapped around his hips. They didn't budge, unyielding in their grip on his waist. 

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he was pinned beneath at least a ton of circuitry and muscle. His jumpsuit had gotten uncomfortably tight the first time he'd seen the big brute currently on top of him. The raw display of power, shoving the helicopter upwards through stone and concrete, had awoken some sort of repressed feelings in him, and he blamed it on how his father used to watch WWE. He squirmed, and then gasped loudly when his movements ground him back onto Mr. X's cock. It was still inside him, huge and solid. He couldn't move forward enough to get it out, succeeding only in fucking himself on it. The burn when it had gone in had been so good, he'd been a drooling mess on the desk, but now he was panicking, trapped like an animal. 

"Hey… hey?" Leon tried to talk to it, maybe wake it up, but he got no response. It was like it had passed out, or shut down for a reboot. Could it do that? He had no idea. He laid his head down on the desk- his desk, he reminded himself. It was supposed to be his. And now, instead of doing paperwork, he was lying across it with the biggest dick he'd ever seen inside him. 

"You think with the wrong fuckin' head." He mumbled to himself. His dick twitched as if in response, reminding him that he was still hard and dripping pre-cum into a steady puddle. That would definitely ruin the wood finish. His thighs flexed unconsciously, and he groaned when it caused him to tighten down on the length pressing on his insides. Giving in to the pleasure, he twitched backwards, gingerly moving himself back and forth with what little give he had. It felt good, but it wasn't _enough._ It would take him forever to cum like that. 

"Huh- ah!" He arched his back, grinding down again. That was the secret, pressing himself against X until his prostate screamed. He gasped for breath, stunned at how intense the shocks running up his spine were. Tears slipped from beneath his eyelids, his whole body overwhelmed but craving just a little more. Right as he braced himself to repeat the motion and hopefully cum, the door across the way burst open. 

"Oh fuck!" He grabbed for his uniform vainly, knowing he couldn't reach his gun. A zombie in motorcycle cop blues staggered towards him, arms loose at its sides. He'd been too loud, let too many noises slip out, and now he'd attracted unwanted attention. His hands stumbled over the desk, searching desperately for anything he could use as a weapon. The zombie was close now, feet dragging on papers strewn across the floor. The whole station was such a mess, it was going to be such a pain to fix up, structural damage, records destroyed, nearly all officers dead and accounted for, except-

Except him. Leon's fingers closed around something hard and sharp beside his knee, and he brought it upright. A letter opener, tinged with brass and heavy in his hand.

"C'mon." He said, ignoring how his hands shook. The zombie grabbed onto his arm, gaping mouth on a trajectory with his shoulder. Its weight forced him backwards in the tyrant's hold, shoving him down further onto its cock. Leon moaned softly, unable to hold back the noise. His dick twitched, but he didn't let his focus slip away just yet. He jammed the letter opener into the former officer's skull, twisting it around with a grotesque crunch. Snapping teeth stilled beside his ear, and he shoved it off of him, sending it tumbling to the floor. "God!" He cursed, quieter this time. Now he was fucked, he doubted there was anything else even remotely resembling a weapon within his reach. He slumped against the desk once more, pouting. X had to wake up at some point.

After a few minutes, he perked up, eyes wide. He smelled… something. Inhaling again, his nose wrinkled. Cigarettes? What, were the corpses taking up smoking now? Realization hit him after a minute, and he panicked. There was someone else here. He squirmed desperately, shoving at X's hands. They were still unyielding, undoubtedly leaving huge handprint-shaped bruises on his hips. 

"X!" He hissed, kicking the brute in the sides as best he could. "Come on, wake up, do something!" He begged. The door creaked open again, and he quieted, already flushing. 

_Please don't be Claire. Please don't be Claire._

The beam of a flashlight startled him, and then the man had pushed the door shut behind him. He had long hair in a ponytail, wore square-framed glasses, and reeked of cigarettes. As he came closer, the smell worsened.

"Well," He said. "What have we here?"

"You've got to help me." Leon pushed at the tyrant again. "Please. I- I don't want this."

"Huh." The reek of cigarettes seemed to be ingrained in his clothes, which looked faded and yellowed. "Certainly seems like you're enjoying it."

"No- ah!" Leon jerked forward as much as he could when fingers brushed against his dick. "Stop!" He took a breath when the man left, only to start panicking again when his wrist was grabbed. "Hey!"

"Just a little insurance." The man said. "My name's Ben, but you can call me sir." He clicked the handcuffs around Leon's wrist, struggling to hold him down enough to connect the two pieces.

"Fuck you! I'm not calling you anything." Leon squirmed, crying out in frustration when Ben trapped both hands behind his back. He laid flat against the desk, gritting his teeth in anger. He squirmed a little, kicking out at where he thought Ben was standing. A sharp slap to his ass took him by surprise, and he yelped.

"Shush. Don't make so much noise." Ben hissed. He slapped Leon again, making him flinch. His fingers dug into the soft flesh, and squeezed.

"Let go of me!" Leon kicked again, earning several more slaps. He jerked against the cuffs, groaning in frustration. Those frustrations increased when he felt something cold land on his lower back, trickling down between his legs to meet where he was stretched open around X. "What is that?" He demanded. Ben didn't answer. Two fingers brushed through the liquid, scooping some up before they nudged against his rim.

"No!" He tried to kick again, grunting when Ben grabbed his ankle. "No, don't." He said again. "Don't-" He cut himself off, eyes widening when they pressed in beside X's cock. "Augh!" He struggled more, resolve crumbling when the fingers followed his trapped body's movements. They slid and prodded inside him, rubbing at his walls and feeling around the tyrant's dick. 

"Hm." Ben pulled his fingers out. "I think you're too tight for me to fit in beside him. And I don't think I'd want to."

"You're sick." Leon grimaced when the fingers pulled out of him, taking their time to pinch and tug at his skin. They drifted down, touching his neglected cock again. 

"I'm sick?" Ben began to jerk him off, hands tight and dry around him. Leon grit his teeth at the unpleasant friction. It was enough to get him off, if that was his rapist's goal, but it would hurt. "I find you bent over a desk like a whore, stuffed full of monster meat, but I'm the sick one here? Whose desk is this anyway?" He plucked the name plaque from where it had been shoved away by Leon's searching hands.

"Leon S. Kennedy?" Ben chuckled. "Don't know who that is, but he's probably dead now."

He had half a mind to wish it was true. The other half was burnt up by anger and indignation. 

"Y'know," Ben started up again, coming around to stand beside Leon's head. "I heard that the RPD was supposed to get some new rookies in. Are you one of them?" He asked. When all he got in response was a glare, he chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, good ol' lieutenant Branagh's desk is right here, and…" he trailed off, walking over to rifle through papers. "Aha! Yep, here you are, and you are- oh, holy _shit!_ " Ben tossed the rest of the paper aside. " _You're_ Leon S. Kennedy. Isn't that fun? At least you had the courtesy to fuck on your own desk and not someone else's." He looked through the file some more, letting out a quiet wolf whistle. "Top marks. You're a smart cookie, Kennedy." He came over to ruffle Leon's hair. "No wonder you're not dead yet." He tossed the file onto the floor, reaching for his belt. "I'm gonna give you a performance review. Open up." 

"No!" Leon tugged on the handcuffs, wincing when his bruised hips chafed against X's hands. Hard pressure on his jaw forced his mouth open, and he closed his eyes when Ben fed his cock in. It was bitter and spongy in a way that made him gag.

"Puke on me, and I'll make you lick it up."

Leon glared up at him, flushing when he felt his cheeks bulge around the cock angling down his throat. He figured out the rhythm after a moment, but it was interrupted by a sharp yank on his bangs. 

"Use your tongue, whore." Ben sneered. He used his grip on Leon's hair to force his head up and down, fucking his throat mercilessly. A horrible mix of distressed whimpers and retching replaced the silence in the room. 

"Stop, please." Leon begged, gasping when he was allowed a moment to breathe. Fat tears were starting to roll down his cheeks, streaking through dirt and sweat. Ben regarded him for a moment, chuckling.

"It's a shame, really." He said, pinching Leon's nose until he was forced to open his mouth. "You would've made a good station pet." His cock slid home with a wet noise. "Would've been so obedient. They would've kept you someplace special, somewhere safe. Mhm." Ben smiled wickedly. "Wouldn't want to give you up, pretty boy." 

Leon closed his eyes as tight as he could, wishing he could cover his ears. His knees ached where they were propped on either side of his desk, the hardwood unforgiving. His body rocked back and forth minutely to service Ben, making his kneecaps scrape and grind and his lower body impale itself further on X's still-massive cock. After he nearly choked a third time- or fourth, he wasn't quite sure- Ben pulled him back by his hair, spitting in his face.

"Maybe I was wrong about you." He let go, beginning to jerk himself off. "Not very good at this." He wiped at the drool pooled on Leon's chin. "But I'm sure you'll get there with practice." His voice sounded a little strained, breathy. 

"Fuck yo-" Leon flinched when something warm and sticky hit him in the face. He gasped when he realized what it was, which turned out to be a mistake, as some made its way into his tongue. He spat and gagged at the taste, making a mess beneath him. 

"I'll give you this." Ben pulled him up by his hair again. "You sure make a pretty sight, crying and covered in cum."

"You bastard! I'll-"

"You'll what?" He mocked, gesturing around them. "Your colleagues are dead, the whole city is _dead_ , and you're hoping someone is going to come save you? Laughable." Ben unhooked one of the handcuffs, letting it dangle. "Come and see me again when you manage to get out of _this_ situation, and maybe I can teach you a thing or two." He traced his finger around Leon's rim before walking off, the smell of cigarettes lingering behind him. 

Silence swallowed up the room again, worse than the darkness. Leon let out a sob, lowering his head against the wood in front of him. His day had started out so well. He'd had breakfast at Denny's, gotten some last minute groceries, gassed up his Jeep, and then made his way here. It'd gone to shit when he'd hit the storm, his windshield wipers barely winning that fight. Worsened when he reached the gas station outside of town. Turned into _hell_ when he'd made it to the police department, and now this. He must have kicked a puppy or something in a past life. 

A low noise startled him, making his whole body tense up. _What now?_ His answer came when the hands on his hips loosened, moving slightly. 

"X?" He asked softly. Another groan answered him. "X, hey, please don't-" 

He barely bit back a scream when the tyrant's first instinct was to fuck into him, slamming him into the office furniture. All the air left his lungs, and he coughed, back arching when X did it again. 

"Okay, okay, X, listen. Please. Listen to me." He begged, trying to hold back tears. The tyrant seemed to pay him no mind, going back to using him just as he had before his shut down. Leon went limp against the desk again, giving up. Endure, survive. He could do it. He gave a silent, thankful prayer to any god that would listen, glad that it had been him and not Claire. 

"Hmm." X garbled in his ear, leaning over him. Leon opened his eyes, nervous at the new sound. The grip on his waist shifted, his hips were pulled up higher, and then X slammed into him again. 

Leon had always thought that "seeing stars" was an exaggeration, that no one actually saw little five pointed lights in times of great pain or pleasure, but when X's cock ground into his prostate, his vision went black. White sparks zipped and fizzled in the corners of his eyes, and he finally understood. A loud, wanton moan cut off his thought process, and his cheeks heated when he realized it had come from his own mouth. 

"X-" He tried again, shoving at the desk weakly. "X, wait." He was lifted halfway into the air as the tyrant rearranged him again, angling him to its pleasure. Leon swore he could feel it's dick rub against his stomach, and the thought made him gag. The movement behind him stopped abruptly, and he shuddered, dreading being filled with X's cum. He couldn't even tell it was happening until some managed to leak out and slide down his thigh. 

"Gross. Gross gross gross." He squeezed the edge of the desk, biting back more tears. "Please, just let me go." Leon glanced over his shoulder. Mr. X was looking back at him, eyes cold and pale. One huge hand moved, grabbing him around the neck. It yanked him upwards, and he gasped and sputtered, nails digging into leather to relieve the pressure on his throat.

"Uh- ungh." Leon moaned, shifting as much as he could. X was holding him upright, impaled on his cock. His own weight put overwhelming pressure on his prostate. "X- please- please-" He begged, sobbing when he fell back against its chest. His cock was red and swollen, heavy between his legs. His body wanted more, more hard pressure, more bruising thrusts, more of that horrible stretch deep inside him.

The first step nearly made him scream. It jostled his whole body, rattling him like a windchime. The hand around his neck kept him upright, balanced so that his weight could rest on the cock spearing him open. Leon allowed himself a soft grunt and a moan every time the tyrant shifted. X was efficient, and fast, and the way their bodies bounced together from his steps was almost too much. 

"Stop. Stop." Leon moaned, fingers digging into the trenchcoat's thick leather. He felt so full, so fucked up, so humiliated. The tears returned, running down his cheeks. He made another quiet prayer, begging that this wouldn't be the last thing he remembered. Leon didn't want his final moments to be about riding the huge dick lodged inside him. Or about how hard he was getting off on it, how much his cock was leaking, thin little strands of pre-cum catching the light like spider webs. An unbidden laugh bubbled out of him as he tried to picture what he looked like. He remembered his classmates, in elementary school, who brought dolls to recess, and played with them in the grass. Some of the older boys, the mean ones, the ones that had tugged on his ears and kicked at his ankles, would steal the dolls and toss them into mud puddles. The girls would scream, run away crying, and abandon their doll in the muck. 

If felt like a fitting metaphor. 

X walked for what felt like ages before stopping at the front desk, just shy of the main door into the courtyard. He dumped Leon forward, watching him struggle to grip onto the desk.

"Can you please put me in a chair next time?" He complained. "I'm getting real tired of all this desk nonsense."

Wrinkled gray hands secured the handcuffs to a loop or something beneath the writing surface. Leon craned his neck to try and see, but a huge hand warned him away. His ankles were next, his legs bunched up and tied- somehow, how the fuck was this thing so good at bondage?- so that his ass stuck out invitingly, still dripping cum. Leon nearly sobbed when X pulled out of him, stepping away. His body seemed lighter, empty. There was a weird sense of loss, and he tried to bury it. All of that was forgotten when two thick fingers slid along his thigh, scooping up cum and pushing it back inside. They wiggled for a moment before finding his prostate and pressing down hard.

Leon arched his back, mouth open in a silent scream. His cock ached, and he swore he saw red as he came, spraying his ejaculate across the desk. By the time his nerves calmed down, he realized he was crying, sobbing loudly. X patted his back, as if trying to comfort him, before beginning to walk away. Leon listened to him go, wondering just how long it would take before the tyrant came back for sloppy seconds. He also wondered how long it would be before Claire passed through the main hall and found him. He whimpered at the thought. He really didn't want her to see him like this, but his chances of getting himself untied were slim to none.

"Next time," He whispered to himself. "Next time, I'm staying home. Shoulda just stayed home." His cheek pressed to the cold wood, and his eyes closed against his will. "What am I gonna tell Mom and Dad?" He mumbled to himself. "Sorry, had to come home, tried to get a job, took it up the ass instead." He giggled at the ludicrousness. "I'm sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad." The laughter left his voice. "I'm sorry."

Leon drifted in and out of sleep, waking fully when his limbs began to tingle from blood loss. He flexed his wrists and ankles, pausing when he heard footsteps. X was back. The tyrant entered the hall, making a beeline for him. It didn't hesitate as it took hold of his thighs, forcing its cock into him. Leon screamed, clawing at the desk. His tears began again, heavier and more desperate. 

"Please, please, I don't want it to be like this, please." He babbled. It didn't take long before his body mercifully shut down, shielding him from whatever else X planned to unleash on him. The deep darkness was a welcome respite, and he dive-bombed into it, his agency and duty all but forgotten.

After all, being a hero sucked.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @pointofdespair
> 
> curiouscat.me/locusdesperatus


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